


What's Going Through You (The Need Inside You)

by sewn



Series: Season of Kink 2019 [7]
Category: The Shannara Chronicles (TV)
Genre: DIY Sex Toys, Druid Apprentice Mareth, F/M, Femdom, Impregnation Kink, Masturbation, Menstrual Cycle, No actual mpreg, Parent/Child Incest, Pegging, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-25 19:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20376637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewn/pseuds/sewn
Summary: "Alright," he said tightly and stopped. "You are ovulating, or about to." He said it as if it explained everything, but Mareth only felt her cheeks flame up."So what if I am? What does that have to –" The realization hit her. "Oh."





	What's Going Through You (The Need Inside You)

**Author's Note:**

> Because I can't stop thinking of ways that telepathy/empath abilities might affect you. This is, again, a post-canon, AU-ish, Allanon & Mareth being druids together what-if. I snagged the term "moon tea" from _ASoIaF_.
> 
> I'm using the Free Space on my Season of Kink bingo card. Let's put this under "aphrodisiacs/altered mental states."

At first Mareth thought she had hurt him as Allanon went down under her and tapped the ground. He didn’t usually yield so easily in fight.

"Are you okay?" Mareth let him out of the chokehold and took his arm to help him sit up. She thought he flinched at her touch. Perhaps his arm, then. "Did I break a bone?" Sometimes she let the magic get the better of her even when she wasn’t supposed to.

He shook his head quickly and stood up. "No. I am fine. – You were good," he added. Mareth thought he looked a little unfocused, sounded unsure, which he often wasn’t. "I… do not feel well. Let’s continue this later."

He seemed pained as they made their way back up to the cave they had camped in, but Mareth decided if he didn’t want to tell her she wouldn’t pry. She spent the rest of the day practicing on her own, left him to his books in the quiet of the cave. By nightfall, however, when they should have been getting ready for bed, Allanon grew more agitated. Mareth couldn’t take his pacing around the cave anymore.

"Okay, you’ve got to tell me what’s wrong. If it’s something serious, we need to deal with it, right?" They had things to do the next day, as they were here to canvass the entire forest. "You never leave me alone either." He was adamant she shared whatever illness had struck her, and she rather told him than had him dig it out of her mind.

"Alright," he said tightly and stopped. "You are ovulating, or about to." He said it as if it explained everything, but Mareth only felt her cheeks flame up.

"So what if I am? What does that have to –" The realization hit her. "Oh." So he _felt_ that, just like he sometimes caught her thoughts or sensed if she hurt herself even when he wasn’t actively reading her mind.

"It’s not a problem," he said quickly, "Other than for me. I haven’t gotten used to it before, and I didn’t think you’d… feel it so keenly."

Mareth wasn’t sure if she was especially affected by her body’s signals of fertility, though now that she was thinking about it… it wasn’t as if she’d say no to sex if it was on the table.

Allanon sat down on the cave floor and drew a hand over his face. "I apologize."

"Hey, come on, it’s not your fault." As exposed as this made her feel, and as weird as this was, Mareth was curious.

"Have you never really felt this before?" With his abilities and age, she would have thought he had experienced every physical sensation it was possible to feel.

"A hint of it, yes," he said. "It’s unavoidable." Mareth sat down across him. He rarely talked to her about his gift. "But it’s different, it’s fleeting," he took a deep breath. "An awareness of what’s happening. It’s easy to ignore. But in close proximity, with someone familiar whose body you are attuned to – " He shook his head and finally looked at Mareth. "You see why it isn’t wise for druids to cohabit with others for long periods of time," he said, dry, though his breathing was shallow and quick as if he was in pain.

It struck Mareth as another unfair facet of druid life she wanted to rebel against and didn’t especially look forward to, but also – she hadn’t realized how much he felt her presence.

"I am sorry," Allanon said emphatically. "I mean no harm, but you are close, and thus my mind and body cling to yours. I should have brought this up earlier. I didn’t think it might become a problem."

Mareth thought of how he must be feeling – like he wanted to be – she swallowed, throat suddenly dry as the physicality of the wish manifested in her head. It must have made it worse for Allanon because he made a sound, caged behind his teeth.

"How do you cope with it?" he asked, sounding a little desperate.

"You get used to it." Mareth shrugged. It wasn’t a distraction any more than any other desire to have sex. But, she supposed, if it hit you with full force for the first time… "And really, the solution isn’t that bad," she said lightly. It wasn’t difficult to find company in inns around the lands. "If you want to be sure nothing happens you just skip the… insemination." She snorted at her own choice of words. "And if there’s no one around, I just –" she wiggled her fingers in the air, "– take care of it myself."

Allanon closed his eyes, clearly uncomfortable at sensing his daughter thinking about masturbating.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to share all of that." She scrunched up her nose, trying not to linger on it, but once it had entered her mind, it was hard not to think about pressure on her clit and in her –

"It’s alright," he said roughly. His skin shone with a slight sheen of sweat, and Mareth looked at his hands, balled into fists.

"Is there something I could do to help you?" Perhaps if she just left him alone, their minds would untangle – perhaps there was a form of magic she could learn, to lock up her mind.

"Both of those would work, yes." Allanon usually tried not to remind her of his abilities and waited for her to put her thoughts in words, but he was clearly desperate to get this conversation over with. "However -"

Practically, it was impossible, Mareth thought. They would have to stay together, and she had yet to develop her skills in mind-reading and shielding. She’d get there eventually but it wasn’t done in a day.

"I guess then the easy way would be getting laid. Believe me, if there was anyone around, I’d go for it." Mareth tried to sound light but the words came out suggestive, her voice husky. 

She was _wet_, she suddenly realized, a little horrified. It wasn’t weird to get aroused talking about sex, of course, but he was her _father_, and – she shook her head. It was no use thinking about this. As there was no one else around in this abandoned corner of the land, and they weren’t likely to run into anyone, it didn’t matter anyway.

Of course, that didn’t mean they couldn’t work out something.

"You know," Mareth said slowly, though her heart was picking up speed, "If I – if I get myself off, you’ll feel it too, and –"

"Mareth, I would never ask you to do that," Allanon said quickly, clearly taken aback.

Mareth’s heart did a little flip. Of course it grossed him out, but – she didn’t mean it like that. It was just physical. To reassure him she reached across to take his hand. She could tell he tried not to pull back, and she ran her thumb over the back of his hand.

"I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. It’s just – it wouldn’t be for you only. I’d do it anyway, right?" The only difference was she’d do it hastily while washing herself in the nearby river. Really, this would only be more comfortable, on their shared bedding. Just… with him present.

"It is your choice," he conceded, voice scratched. It clearly hurt him enough that he considered it. It made Mareth’s breathing pick up. She squeezed his hand gently.

"Look, we both –" _want_, she almost said, "– need it. If this is what it takes, then so be it." For a heartbeat she was sure he would shake her hand off, but he just nodded.

"Alright," she said. This felt a little like a dream. "Let’s just…" She wanted to do this lying down, and their bed was all they had. "You – do you want to be close to me?" She couldn’t think of any other way they’d both be comfortable, as their soft surfaces were limited to the blankets they called their bed. And that – a warmth next to her wasn’t exactly a bad thing.

It wasn’t an odd thing to do, working the buttons of her shorts open, half-undressing, and lying down next to her father, but the intent behind it, and what followed –

"If you don’t like this, just tell me to stop." It occurred to Mareth to say it only when she’d already slid her hand between her thighs. She was wet enough that her pubic hair was soaked, and she could slip her fingertips between her lips easily. "Other than that, I’ll do what feels good to me, alright?"

Allanon nodded in agreement. Mareth pushed two fingers deeper into her cunt, sighing. It did feel good after all the talking and thinking.

The heat of his body almost made it feel like he was someone she’d picked up and they were really having sex. Mareth closed her eyes as she stroked her clit, tried to imagine a stranger next to her or a half-remembered traveler. It wasn’t easy, his scent was too familiar and his breathing unmistakable; she’d been around him for too long. Still, something about that felt good, perhaps it was the safety and the comfort, she could like it –

It was his gasping that pulled her out of her thoughts, and she realized she’d started moaning, every exhale, quiet but like she was really being fucked, and it had – she bit her lip to stop the next one – it turned him on, it had to; she was a warm body too. She had thought this wouldn’t really get to him _like that_, that it would alleviate the pain, but apparently not –

"You feel good." His voice was barely a whisper, a puff of air on her neck, and it made her shiver – they’d somehow moved closer, and as she tightened her muscles and rubbed a slow circle around her clit, she could _feel_ him tense up by her side.

_Yeah, I do_, she thought, not turning her head, not wanting to open her mouth, who knew what she’d say. He heard her thoughts anyway, and she tried not to be embarrassed, but it was hard because no matter the fog in her head, lusting after your father still shocked her; she didn’t have a reason for it, no magical caveat to explain it away and – she needed to speed this up.

"Touch yourself," Mareth said, and her voice had a completely inappropriate tone to it. "Open your pants, take your cock, _touch yourself_." She needed to keep her head on track, she hoped he felt how sorry she was – she was happy that he did as he was told.

Mareth let herself get lost in her arousal again and imagined what she thought he’d need, someone pushing a hot, full cock into her, someone strong and intense and focused on no one but her, wanting to make her their own. It wasn’t a fantasy she often indulged in, but it wasn’t all bad, and she thought of coming, really bursting with semen.

Her eyes stayed glued to the cave ceiling but she could tell when he came. He wasn’t loud but took desperate little breaths and the wet sound of his hand moving on his cock fell out of rhythm – Mareth thought she could _smell_ his coming, and the thought pushed her closer to the edge, made her fall. Unable to stop herself, she turned her head and buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the leather and him as she came.

*

Mareth thought sleeping together would be awkward, but it somehow wasn’t. They always slept under the same blanket when it was cold, and she was happy to wake up under his arm as usual.

It really must have been a physical, contained reaction. She probably wasn’t horny now – and how weird was it to gauge that by observing her father’s behavior – because nothing seemed out of the ordinary when he woke up.

They began their actual work today, moving through the forest in search of a source of power. They were trying to locate an underground cave or a stream – they didn’t even know what it was exactly – something that radiated ancient magic. All of these expeditions sounded exciting to Mareth when Allanon told her about them, but more often than not, they were like this: forcing her way through shrubbery and thorny bushes, getting herself scratched and dirty.

By evening, however, Mareth could tell it was getting to Allanon again. He didn’t bring it up, so she had to do it. It was getting on her nerves to see him squirm and sweat.

"Alright," she said. "Sit down."

She had thought about it, and if her getting off was really what it took, she might just as well be more efficient about it tonight.

Mareth pulled out a pouch from her bag. She was letting him in on more of her life than he probably wanted to, but he had to know anyway now that she was thinking about it -

"Alright, so, tell me to stop right now if you don’t want to hear it but –" she held out the artificial cock, "– this thing is pretty great."

He coughed, uncomfortable again. "So I’ve heard."

"So, ah." Mareth wasn’t quite sure what to say. If she had to say anything. "You don’t mind if I use it?" She didn’t want to say it out loud, but she thought he might even appreciate it, a quicker way to get where they needed.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. "No," he said, "I don’t."

That’s how they ended up on the bed again, Mareth feeling self-conscious but already dripping wet.

"Close your eyes," she said, breathing out slowly, trying to control her thoughts.

She pushed the cock inside herself, sighing at the relief of the pressure where she wanted it. It was made of light wood, and she’d found it a few years ago at a market in the south. It didn’t resemble a real cock much except in the shape of its curve, and it was slightly thicker than the ones she usually found herself in contact with – she suddenly wondered how Allanon would measure up, she’d never seen him undressed enough to have – 

Mareth’s mouth parted of its own accord to let out a high sound. A good spot – she hoped her wrist wouldn’t tire, it was perfect as it was – she wondered how it must have felt to him, but not for long be because his voice echoed hers. The sound made her toes curl, it was almost better than sliding her fingers over her throbbing clit to add to the sensation.

_It’s okay_, she thought, weirdly reassured, as she pulled the cock out, just an inch, then back in again, and stroked her clit harder.

"You feel this? Is it good?" She wanted to hear him say it, make sure he was okay, that he really was getting what he needed out of this.

"Yes," he said.

"Good. Now –" telling him what to do had worked out yesterday, "– take your cock in your hand. Don’t move your hand until I say so."

With a trembling breath, he complied.

"Alright –" she panted "- focus on _this_," she tried to get the angle right again, squeeze her muscles just so. It worked, she thought, as a keening sound left his mouth. Mareth kept it up, repeating the motions, not pushing but just trying to grind against the unyielding wood.

It didn’t take much longer. She pushed her feet down, toes rubbing against the rough cloth, it was good, she was almost there –

"Tighten your hold," she said quickly, "Move your hand." She wanted to time this right, make it less awkward, surely coming at the same time would do that, and feel better for him – "Harder," she said, as she felt the tension inside her give up, muscles give in to helpless fluttering, and the slick sound of his hand on his cock was good, the best sound in the world, she _knew_ from his breathing he was ready, and – "Come," she barely breathed out, and he did, burying his face in her hair, his hot breath caressing her neck and ear.

*

While washing herself down the river the next evening, scrubbing away the dirt of the day, Mareth slipped her fingers into herself. She hadn’t paid this much attention to the monthly changes in herself in years, but Allanon’s reaction had made her more aware of her body. It was like his attention had touched her everywhere, woken up her nerves and skin. She could tell today was different again, and her fingers were slick and sweet when she sucked them into her mouth. She was sure this was the taste of fertility, but unlike her father, she didn’t feel out of it. Just pleasantly aroused, a low tickling buzz. Mareth thought of masturbating before climbing back up to the cave, but thought better of it. It was no use pretending she wouldn’t need to get off later.

The previous night might have been a tad more awkward than the one before, but they still stayed close together to keep away the autumn chill.

"It’s not going to be like this for more than a few days," Mareth had consoled him as she pushed closer to her father’s chest. She was painfully aware that there was some lingering arousal in her that he could easily read in her thoughts if he wanted to. She’d need to think about that later – this situation was confusing, and her brain must have gone haywire, mixed physical necessity with desire. Whatever it was, Allanon’s arm was a solid comforting weight around her.

Mareth was pleased to find out their activities seemed to have worked, as well. They had again spent the day scouting the area, not yielding results but covering a lot of the ground. She was slowly growing used to the less thrilling parts of life as a wandering druid. As she suspected, though, the evening found them both wound up. Mareth could almost feel the arousal between them, like smoke in the air. She felt braver today, but she steeled herself as she made her suggestion.

"What if we actually had sex?" Once she’d said it, it didn’t sound that weird, even if saying it still made her cheeks burn. It made sense: he’d feel what she’d feel, get to enjoy the penetration – maybe it would help.

"I can prepare moon tea," she said. She always carried the herbs, just in case, for when she happened not to have anything else for protection. Like now. "And we can –"

"Mareth, no –" Allanon shook his head, looking horrified. "I would never use you like that. I’ve asked too much of you as it is." His voice was hoarse, but she could tell he was even more uncomfortable than before.

"Don’t worry about that," Mareth said just as quick. She didn’t want him to feel like he was forcing her in any way. If anyone was using anyone here it was her, and she wished he could read it in her mind, how sorry she was. "I’d like it," she confessed, heat spreading between her legs as she said it, "But it’s true I’d prefer not to right now."

She thought of her artificial cock again, how it would probably satisfy them both, he seemed to have liked it well enough, and maybe – maybe he’d like it _in_ –

"What if we did it –" he said it before she found the end of the thought.

"– the other way around?" she finished his sentence. The thought sent a spark down her spine. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but now it seemed obvious. "Would you like that?"

He wouldn’t have needed to say anything, it was clear in his face and his demeanor, but he did anyway. "Yes. I would." His voice was so low Mareth barely heard it.

They needed to figure this out quickly, how it would work best, but she was nothing if not practical and her mind skipped ahead. It shouldn’t be too difficult. 

"Just… give me some time, I’ll prepare for it." It had struck her that she could imitate fucking him even better if she just had the proper… tools for it. The thought made her giddy.

Mareth dug out the wooden cock and her repair kit. With some magic and stitching, it shouldn’t be too difficult to assemble some sort of a… harness, she supposed, out of the leather straps and little buckles she had for repairing her belts and boots. Her eyes fell on the bottle of olive oil she had for finishing the leather, and that – that would come in handy, too.

"This won’t take long." She glanced at Allanon. "Why don’t you get undressed?" It was perhaps too vague, so she added, "Take off your coat."

It seemed to ease him some to have something to do. Mareth got to work, quickly measuring and cutting – he thought she used her power too freely sometimes, but she let magic help her, cut through the thick leather, mend it again. She kept glancing at Allanon, and whenever he was done with an item of clothing, she moved to next one – vest, boots, belt, breeches.

Finally, happy with her handiwork, Mareth got up. Allanon was completely undressed now; seeing him made her hungry for his skin, both looking and touching, and she found herself taking slow steps closer until she could feel the heat of his body. Allanon was tensed up. She really must have affected him more tonight. She slid her hand up his forearm slowly, then up to his shoulder.

"Relax," she said softly. "I’ll make it good for you, okay? I’ll take care of you –" She bit back some endearment that threatened to slip out of her mouth. "Have you done something like this before?" she asked instead.

"Yes," he said, curt, and that – that was good, she wouldn’t need to coax him into opening himself up for her.

"Good, that’s – great. I have, too." Truthfully, it had been a while, but she didn’t want to show more hesitation than was needed.

"So," she wet her lips. Apparently she was the one calling the shots. It was good, made it easier. "Get yourself ready for me." She handed the olive oil to him. "This should do, right?"

"Yes." He spoke roughly. He must have sensed each of her thoughts, and she both hated and wanted it right now, she felt bare but it was easy to make him understand when he was attuned to her mind like this, ready to obey her.

It felt like he waited for more detailed instruction again, so she continued.

"Get on the bed," she said, gentle but firm, indicating the pile of blankets. "On your back, spread your legs, and –" she thought of the wording, "– open yourself up. For me."

He complied again, happy to follow her orders, though he hesitated a second before he poured oil on his fingers.

Mareth began to undress, but she found herself distracted. This wasn’t a sight she’d thought she’d get to see: her dad _fingering himself_. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. His tightly shut eyes and the stern line of his mouth revealed his awkwardness, but other than that he was efficient, clearly knew what he was doing, and Mareth couldn’t help wondering about his life outside this, before her –

Allanon gasped, and his toes dug into the blanket. That must have meant he felt good enough.

"Stop," she said, and it came out with more force than she’d thought. It made her stomach flutter to see how quickly he did as told. "Take your fingers out."

Mareth quickly wiggled out of the rest of her clothes, didn’t bother to take her jewels off. She picked up the device she had assembled, walked closer and stood at the foot of the bed. 

"Look at me," she said. She wanted to telegraph her movements, make it less of a shock. Allanon opened his eyes, got onto his elbows, his legs still spread. Mareth strapped the belts on slowly, around her thighs and hips; fastened tight, they kept the wooden cock in place, an imitation of an erection. When she was done she got down on her knees. His eyes tracked her, fixed between her legs. Mareth reached for the bottle of oil and poured some on her palm.

"Look at my cock," she said slowly as she slid her hand around the length. "This is what you’ll get. It’s quite big, I know. But it’s good for you. You’ll really feel it." She meant is as a promise, a reassurance, and looked him in the eye. Allanon held his breath, and there was something between them, some invisible cloud that filled her lungs and seeped into her everywhere.

Mareth thought he really hadn’t lied about having done something like this, as his hips angled to meet her first thrust and he didn’t hide his groan of pleasure. She slid her palm up his stomach, other arm wrapped around his bent leg.

"How does it feel?" she whispered.

"Good," he said right away, voice low, softer than usual.

Allanon looked good, too. A few strands of sweat-soaked dark hair stuck to his forehead and his eyelashes were wet; his unfocused gaze flew from her mouth to her arms to her ears. As she rocked her hips slowly, his mouth fell open, and his lips were wet too, soft-looking, and he threw his head back and bared his throat for her. The sight made Mareth want to kiss him all over, and she barely kept herself in check, tried to concentrate on what mattered.

She had to lean forward to better fuck him with the strength she wanted to, and she ended up putting her weight on her arms, one hand planted on his chest, one on the bedding next to his shoulder. That way, it was almost like she caged him in, and as she pushed in again and let her hips and spine move in a wave, let her body do what it wanted, he gasped like she’d pushed in deeper than before.

Mareth kept the pace slow. She enjoyed the little sounds she pushed out of him. He wasn’t loud in his coming apart, but she was so used to gauging his reactions from how he breathed, how he furrowed his brow, in fight and in magic, that she found it easy to see what he liked, delighted at the lightest moan. His body answered her in turn: it was like they both worked towards a goal, and really, that was what this was, wasn’t it –

"What if I really knocked you up?" It escaped before she could help it, but the thrill of saying the words went through her lightning-quick. "Would you like that? Me filling you up?"

Allanon’s breath hitched. "Y- yes. I –" he stuttered at the next push in, "– would."

"Yeah, I knew you would. I’d fill you so good. So you’d be dripping with it. Couldn’t hold it all in."

Mareth could imagine it, could almost feel how it would like be to slip her fingers into his ass, all fucked open, filled with come. To push in something to keep it in.

"You’d carry our baby. Babies. You’d like that too, wouldn’t you?"

He whined, and _that_ was the best sound in the world, she wanted to hear it again.

"You’d be so beautiful. With your belly all swollen. Growing." She moved her hand to touch his pectoral. "And your tits, hm? Just imagine them filling up."

He did whine again then, and she grew wetter and wetter at the thought and the sound, her hips picking up speed. It might have been too rough for him, but Mareth let her eyes close, her mind linger on the image. She rubbed at his nipple, slow, imagined it fuller and sore, leaking.

"Yeah, you’d be perfect for that. I –" she licked her lips, tasting the salt of her sweat, "I’d love to see it." She really did, she realized, and –

He groaned, louder, and his hand came up to the small of her back so he could pull her down between his legs, deeper. Mareth opened her eyes, and she could again tell he was close. Even without mind-reading he was open for her.

She touched his cheek.

"Come on," she said. "Come for me."

He turned his head so he could suck her thumb into his mouth, and that made Mareth let out some sound she couldn’t even hear from her own blood beating in her ears.

"Come," she whispered again, and she thought of moving her hand down to take his cock in her hand but he was spilling all over his belly already, tongue against her thumb, fingers tangled in the bedding, and Mareth imagined it was her coming, it all coming out of her cock instead.

"That’s good," she said, keeping her hands where they were. "You’re good." She waited for him to calm down a little before she gently slipped her thumb out of his mouth. She was feverish but she still pulled back carefully, steadying the artificial cock with her hand, looking at his face for any discomfort. She was so wet she could now feel her thighs were slick with it, staining the leather.

Once out, Mareth unbuckled the straps with trembling fingers, not able to focus on anything but Allanon in front of her, his heaving chest, his still open mouth and closed eyes, legs spread and cock spent, and she’d done that, made him look like that - feel like that -

Grunting in frustration, Mareth _burned_ a belt in half, it burned her skin too and that was absolutely unnecessary use of her power as he’d say, but she finally tugged the thing off and threw it on the bed, somewhere, she couldn’t care less.

She was so turned on it hurt, head reeling from what she’d just said and seen. The thought that she had no excuse for it hammered in her head, but she couldn’t – she only needed to – she should move back and get herself off without disturbing him even more –

His fingers brushed her thigh, and she gave up, pushed her fingers between her legs and crashed down and _came_, hand awkwardly between their bodies so she could rock her clit against her fingertips, his cock pressed into her belly, her wooden beads digging into her chest, and she made herself come a second time, maybe, it was hard to say when everything in her felt so good.

She stayed on him, feeling boneless, until she was sure she was making him uncomfortable. She rolled off of him carefully, left a few inches between them. Mareth was slowly becoming more aware of the sting on her hip where she’d burned her skin. A future scar.

They stayed silent, both catching their breath, until Allanon spoke.

"How many days of your menstrual cycle are like this?" His voice was hoarse but he was almost back to his stoic self. Mareth turned to look at him. She was still trying to take in what they’d just done, taken aback by the things she’d let out of her mouth, but there was something light and sweet mixed with it, something that made her skin tingle. 

"I’m not sure but… four, maybe," she said. "Sometimes more." She was thinking about tomorrow, whether he’d need or want to do this again. And then, there was the next month, and the next one… until he got used to it. If he did. Allanon must have been thinking about it, too, because he made a sound like a groan and a chuckle rolled into one, and when she glanced at his face, he was smiling a little.

Mareth felt something unravel inside her, some ache replaced with a slowly spreading warmth. Carefully, she reached to take his hand, and he twined his fingers with hers.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this far & are into it, [here's my tumblr for the ship](https://allanonxmareth.tumblr.com/).


End file.
